


Birthday Gifts

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Birthday Presents, Furry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete answers a knock on the door and gets a surprise gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Gifts

The doorbell rings and Pete snuggles deeper into his couch cushions, pulling the fuzzy blanket further up his body. The air conditioning runs high for this exact reason. Pete likes the feel of terrycloth or flannel or whatever else a good blanket is made of against his skin. If the house is a decent temperature he doesn’t have a reason for the stack of a dozen neatly folded blankets tucked behind the couch. So it’s left at 66 degrees, and he gets his blankets and Mikey gets an entire closet of old, worn hoodies. Everybody wins.

It rings again. It’s a once common sound, turned ugly by how it never means anything good. Doorbells are just like the beeping of alarm clocks. Not technically evil sounds, like the sound of a blade slicing through skin, but close enough when it forces you to leave warm bedding and a warm boyfriend and get up and face the world. Pete continues to ignores it, hoping they'll go away. He shouldn’t have to listen to solicitors on his birthday.

It goes a third time, the person on the other side of the door obviously not willing to take ‘not home’ for an answer. He wonders how they know, whether it falls on the level of slightly creepy Jehovahs, moderately creepy peering in windows, or highly creepy checking the garage for cars. Sometimes Pete thinks about keeping all the lights off, all the time. He and Mikey can eat by candlelight, read by the glowing screens of their Kindles. If stairs are too scary to navigate in the dark they can sleep in makeshift tents of blankets and couch cushions repurposed as pillows. He doesn’t ever suggest it to Mikey, because sometimes he thinks Mikey would say yes. They have a habit of indulging the wrong parts of each other.

Pete sighs, peels the blanket off mournfully. After he stands he flips the blanket back down. If he can get rid of whomever it is quickly enough, maybe the warm spot will still be there. This should be Mikey's job, damn it. Sure they have their bargains, carefully twisting and weaving around their issues without having to state them like another goddamn therapy session. Three hundred and sixty four days a year, Pete is fine with being the one to answer the door. But it’s his birthday, and if he so much as steps a foot out of the house he’ll be followed by esteemed writers for Star, so why should he have to put up with the ones with the balls to knock on his door?

Pete stalls at the door for a second. They used to have a door with a stained glass window, but some fan wasn’t entirely happy with their relationship, and after the first few times it was broken it was easier to switch out the door than replace the yellow and green glass. He rests his head on the cool steel and takes a second to convince himself he can deal with whatever dumb ass question whatever paparazzi asks. He takes a step back, turns the knob and pulls the door open. It opens to a mascot.

Standing on his front step is a giant rabbit. Not a cheap Halloween version with a pair of ears tied on to some guy’s head, t-shirt visible under the sagging body suit. It’s a tightly fitted body, clean lines and rich looking fur. The head is the pull on variety, most likely balanced on the body inside by a helmet. The ears are slightly curved, tinted the same shade of pink that lines the rabbit’s eyes. Pete can’t help that his heart rate picks up a little bit.

The rabbit holds up a sign, black script on the brown background that says Happy Birthday. It makes a ‘can I come in’ gesture. To anyone else in the world Pete would say no. He’s not an idiot, you don’t invite people into your home when you’re well known. But he's a bit smitten with the rabbit, and before his concious mind can call him out for it, he’s stepping aside and letting the rabbit walk in.

He watches it walk, and there’s no question that it’s a male. It’s got a swagger that can only be male. He gestures again, this time to the loveseat. Pete sits and expects it to start serenading him. It’s no Marilyn Monroe, but Patrick, Brendon, there are a bunch of people in his life that would know it’s better than any blonde in a tight dress.

Instead of crooning happy birthday, the rabbit gets in close enough that Pete could touch him. He resists for a minute before reaching out and stroking the fur. It feels as nice as it looks.

The movement is apparently a cue for the rabbit. Without saying a word he straddles Pete, a knee on either side of Pete’s thighs. All his blood rushes to his cock so quickly that he nearly swoons. Even through his lightheadedness, his sheer raging _want_ , he knows he can’t. He shakes his head and starts pushing on the male’s chest. He can’t trust himself to talk, knows there’s just as much chance of opening his mouth to a moan than the words he needs to say. ‘Piss off, I love Mikey, stop’, he desperately wants to be able to say them, but he doesn’t trust himself to, so he shoves, hard enough that the rabbit nearly topples to the floor. Only knees gripping his hips like steel keep the male from falling.

“’sokay, Pete.” Pete’s head swings to the frame of the living room. Mikey’s leaning there, half a smile on his face. “Happy birthday.”

Before he has time to process that, the rabbit says “Yeah, happy birthday, motherfucker.” Pete knows the voice. It’s Gabe, he’s willing to put his life’s savings on it. Gratitude rushes through him, a white wash of clean joy and thanks. Then he tucks it down and lets other feelings come to the fore. He thrusts his hips up towards the rabbit, groans when he’s met by a push down. If this is something that’s been set up for him, he’s going to take it. Pete isn’t the sort to refuse gifts.


End file.
